The Adventures of Sage Parker
by reaganichole96
Summary: Sage Parker has a bad family life with an absent father and verbally abusive mother. But when Jonah (his best friend and older brother) reveals something about himself that he never knew existed, they set out to find their father so he can help Sage manage his abilities to bend fire, water, earth, and wind.
1. Escapees

**Chapter 1 **

Escapees

JONAH," I WHISPER. "C'MON, PLEASE WAKE UP. HEY. JONAH." I SHAKE THE LUMP THAT I assume is my brother's shoulder. He's sleeping soundly in his small twin-sized bed. He doesn't move. "Jonah!" I whisper a little louder and shake a little harder. The only sound is his quiet snoring. His shoulder lightly rises and falls with his breathing.

Okay, Plan B.

I gently pull the striped comforter down to his feet. He doesn't stir. He lies in his bed in only a pair of navy blue cotton sleep pants. Not that I can even see what color they are in the dark. Jonah's room is pitch-black except for the blue glow from his alarm clock and the little strip of carpet under the window illuminated by the moon. I only know they are navy blue because if they aren't on Jonah's body it's because they're in the wash or he's out in public.

I grab Jonah's shoulder and hip and roll him flat on his back. His head lolls. He makes a sort of grunt but still doesn't wake up. We could be bombed and he wouldn't so much as flutter an eyelid. The boy is dead to the world.

"Jonah," I half-whisper.

Nothing.

I put my knee on his bed, climb up, and twist so that I am sitting on his chest. I feel his ribs press into my legs. "What the heck," he finally grumbles. He inhales deeply, almost like he can't get enough air. Strange.

I just make out the whites of his eyes as they slowly open. He takes another struggling breath. "Do you mind!" He shoves me off and I tumble to the floor, just barely landing on my feet. He huffs and yanks the comforter back under his chin, curling up on his side.

"Do _you_ mind," I retort. "I been tryn' to get you up for the last five minutes!" I keep my voice low and still manage to add a touch of mock indignation. "Jonah, please get up," I whine. I try to pull the blankets back.

"Sage, it's—what time is it?" He keeps his eyes shut.

Now this is the tricky part. I figure I have two options.

One: Tell Jonah it's two in the morning and I want to go to Seward. This is what I'd planned to do in the first place. I'd lain in bed for an hour and a half, staring at the ceiling before my anticipation got the better of me.

Two: Make up a lie that I got lost on my way to the bathroom and thought I had sat down on the toilet, not his chest. Though, when you've lived in a house for seven years, getting lost is a terribly difficult task. Plus, I did not get out of bed and wake up this boy just to change my mind and lie to him. Oh, and then there's the thing about lying being immoral, unethical, yadda, yadda, blah.

Option One it is.

"Two?" I say it like I'm not sure.

"Omigod!" he gasps. He sits up like he's stuck his fingers in a light socket. "I slept all day?"

Okay, not exactly what I was expecting.

This opens up a previously nonexistent Option Three.

"Yeah, I've never seen someone sleep as much as you. D'you think they have research for people like you? I mean, World War Three just started up about an hour ago. It's gettin' pretty nasty out there."

He ignores me and climbs out of bed. He looms over me, half a foot taller than my five-foot-seven.

"So how ya been?" I ask as I flip on the lamp on Jonah's nightstand. His room is filled with a dim yellow glow. He has the biggest room—well, excluding Nichole who occupies the Master Bedroom. It's a pretty typical room: bed, desk, dresser, closet. "Well, y'know," Jonah sneers, "I was pretty okay when I was still asleep!"

"Shh!" I breathe. I glance around conspiratorially. "I don't want to wake up Mom and Lorelai!"

"Oh, but me it's okay?" Jonah walks to the door, twists the knob oh-so-carefully and pulls it open. It makes a long wailing screech—kind of like a cat dying. Both of us freeze. I knew it was stupid to close it when I came in here...

Lorelai's room shares a wall with Jonah's. If she heard us, she'd think someone was coming to murder her. That's just how 7-year old brains work: hear a sound in the middle of the night, think you're about to be killed.

It obviously wasn't a loud enough sound because after a minute, nothing happens.

Jonah slips out the door, and heads to the bathroom directly across from my room. "Well, yeah, duh," I say quietly to his back as I follow him down the hall. "You're the only one who will drive me."

"Drive you where?" He stands in the doorway of the bathroom, facing me with a wary look.

"To Seward," I state matter-of-factly.

"Sage, you woke me up at two in the morning for that?"

"Er—no?"

He shuts the door in my face.

I'm not sure how to respond to that.

Last year, when I was fifteen and Jonah was sixteen, he woke me up at almost five in the morning and drove us down to the 24-hour Texaco and bought ice cream. He'd just gotten his license and couldn't wait to use it. If he can decide to pick up leave in the middle of the night, then so can I. Only problem is, I don't have my license yet.

I knock on the door. "Jonah," I whisper.

The door swings open and Jonah raises and eyebrow at me with a toothbrush hanging from his mouth and a Crest beard. It strikes me as kind of weird because the last time I brushed my teeth at two in the morning was...well, never. I take that as an affirmation. I grin, flashing all my teeth. "I'll go get my stuff," I breathe and whip around into my room.

My room isn't as big as Jonah's, but what it lacks in space, it makes up for in scenery. It's also typically decorated: bed, closet, desk, TV; but the most sensational aspect is the window—well, the _view_ from it, technically.

Our house faces southeast, my room and the dining room downstairs being the only rooms with views facing the front. Across the road is a small field. A thin barrier of trees blocks the view of the highway. From my window, the landscape extends further: across the highway to the steep, rocky cliffs that descend into the muddy inlet that divides Wasilla from Anchorage. In the mornings, the sun glistens off the choppy water and illuminates my room in a radiant pale yellow. On clear, sunny days, I can see all the way across the inlet. To the left, the inlet meets a gray, pebbly shoreline that wraps all the way around it till it widens into the larger Cook Inlet that spans the horizon off to the right. At night, the view is even more astonishing; the lights from Wasilla, Eagle River, and Anchorage flicker around the inlet like fireflies. They cast reflections in the water—mirror images of the cities, marred only by the waves that break the surface. The pale orange incandescent lights are far enough away to leave the vista of sky unconcealed. Billions of stars stipple the dark blanket of night, and, once in a blue moon, streaks of red and green Northern Lights dance like streamers in the wind against the inky darkness.

Tonight I don't spend as much time looking out the window as I usually do. I'm in too much of a hurry to stay still, excited that Jonah will actually take me away from this dreadful house that I only stay in because, one, I don't have money or connections to live anywhere else, and two, my school is conveniently close and one of two solaces from this place, sad as that is. The other being the cabin in the middle of nowhere that Jonah and I are about to drive to.

I don't bother turning on the lights, afraid that it might alert Nichole that we're awake. I creep over to my closet and rummage through the top shelf until I find a duffle bag. I throw it on the bed and then start ripping T-shirts, jeans, and shorts off hangers and throw them on the bed too. I just assume that all the clothes I grab match. I rifle through my dresser drawers next, randomly grabbing boxers, socks, and a few flannel sleep pants.

"Y'know you actually have to put the clothes _in_ the bag for the whole concept of _packing_ to work, right?" Jonah says in a hushed voice from the doorway. I can make out the shadows of a shirt and pair of jeans on him.

I ignore him, carrying my underwear to my bed. "You got dressed already?" It's been, like, ninety seconds since I started packing.

"Of course I did," he says like that's a given. I unzip the bag and shove all my clothes in it without folding them. "You're so sloppy," Jonah says.

"Well apparently this is a race," I mutter. He walks out and comes back a moment later with two toothbrushes, my comb, and two sticks of deodorant. I zip the main pocket, while he throws the toiletries in a side pocket. "Have you packed yet too?"

"No," he whispers, "c'mon."

I look around the room to make sure I have everything, sling the duffle over my shoulder, and quietly shuffle back down to his room. He has his closet light on and starts rummaging through it, picking and choosing which shirts he pulls off the hanger.

I throw my bag on his bed and get one of the toothbrushes out of the side pocket. Jonah's going to take forever packing so I head to the bathroom to scrub my teeth. I stop in front of the bathroom, then hold my breath and shuffle up to Nichole's bedroom door to listen. The only thing I hear is the blood pounding in my head. I'm scared for her to wake up because if she does, she'll hate me even more than she does already.

I let out my breath when I don't hear anything for a few seconds and go brush my teeth. The standard time is two minutes, but I figure they're clean enough after forty-five seconds. I'm back in Jonah's room and he's still where I left him: in his closet trying to pick out clothes. "Jonah, seriously, we're not going to any black-tie events, let's go!"

"I'm trying to find my jacket. Untwist your panties."

_Oh_. His duffle is on the bed next to mine, zipped and ready to go. Apparently he's folded and organized all his clothes because where my bag is round and lumpy, his is perfectly square. What a freak.

"It's not that cold," I mutter. Sure, it's Alaska, but we're nowhere near the Arctic Circle, and temperatures are usually in the seventies in late May.

"You don't know. Hey, is that mine?" He asks as he shrugs into a tan corduroy jacket. I look down at the toothbrush in my hand. Its handle is yellow and the back of the head has a tongue scrubber. This isn't mine.

"Hey, what d'you know. Oops."

"Disgusting." Jonah shakes his head.

"You'll be fine," I assure him and stash the toothbrush back in my duffle.

"I'm not using that," he informs me. He throws the toothbrush in the trash bin by his desk.

"Hey, I had my cootie shot."

He rolls his eyes and flips off his side lamp. "Got everything?" We both sling our bags on and I make a last minute check in my mind about everything I need. Shirts, pants, socks, underwear, toothbrush, pajamas. All check. I look down and give myself a once-over. And I'm still in my pajamas. I mentally face-palm myself.

"My clothes," I tell him. I drop my bag to the floor and half-run, half-tiptoe back to my room. I slip on a T-shirt I pull blindly out the closet, yank on a pair of mesh shorts, then run back to Jonah's room. "Ha!" I grin, proud of myself that the black shirt and shorts match. "Okay, let's go." I hurriedly snatch my bag up and look over Jonah's shoulder to see what he's doing hunched over his desk. He's scribbling on a Post-It.

Leaving earlier than usu. this summer.

Be back before school. Perry's with us.

J & S

"You're such a goody," I sigh. "Mom doesn't care where we are. She'll be happy we're not here. Or she probably won't even notice." I crumble up his note and take the pen.

Leaving this hellhole. Maybe

we'll come back someday.

Adios. S & J

"Sage, stop it. She doesn't hate you, much as you'd like to think." He unfolds his note and checks to make sure it's still sticky. He tosses mine away.

"Yeah, well maybe I hate _her_," I mumble. On some level I think I really do hate her.

Jonah whips around and stares at me with his light blue eyes. His face is so sad that I can't look him in the eye.

"What?" I ask, fiddling with the pen cap.

Jonah straightens up, takes the pen, and puts it and the sticky notes away. "Nothing," he answers brusquely. He shuffles around his desk and takes a last look around. "Are we gonna go or not?" he asks. I nod. "C'mon," he flips off his closet light and we're veiled in complete darkness. I feel him slip past me and I follow him into the hallway. I manage not to walk into anything. He takes a left to stick the note on Nichole's door and I go right and carefully slink down the stairs. I count each step so I can skip over the second to last one—the one that creaks. Jonah copies me and we make our way around the landing and down the second flight with minimal noise, which is quite an accomplishment on my part.

We creep through the house, past the dining room, kitchen, and utility room, and into the garage. I turn the knob and shut the heavy door carefully so it doesn't slam. Jonah flips on the light of the two-car garage and my pupils burn in protest. I shut them tight, only opening them when Jonah speaks.

"Get that," he instructs, pointing to the corner on my right. He walks over to the metal shelves in the opposite corner and digs around while I grab the big ice chest. I slip my feet into a pair of Nike slides and watch Jonah grab a round felt bag from a shelf above his head, then follow him to the side door.

The door makes a suctioning sound when he pulls it open. Both of us tense, but frankly, I think I made more noise brushing my teeth than the door did. I inhale the cool, rich night—well, morning—air, enjoying the Great Outdoors. It's the perfect temperature: just warm enough to not need a jacket, and just cool enough to make my skin tingle. My lungs drink it in like a nice big gulp of chilled Gatorade. The moon is just a sliver, but it lights up the entire yard and driveway for me and Jonah. The trees are long silhouettes against the sky.

Jonah's making his way out to his Jeep. I hurry to catch up when a yellow glow shines onto the rocky soil of the yard. I sprint forward to get out of the light.

"Hey!" Jonah yelps.

"Shh!" I hush. I accidentally struck him with the ice chest, but the light in the yard is from Nichole's bathroom window. Jonah sees that when he turns around prepared to yell at me. We lock eyes and I physically tense up. He nods his head towards the wall of the garage and we slink over to it until we're directly beneath the window, but out of the light. My throat is choked up tight, I'm not breathing. I press myself as far into the wall as I possibly can, my stomach sucked in, shoulders back, till I'm a flat board.

I know Nichole couldn't possibly see us; the window is only a tiny rectangle, mostly just for looks. I can only see out it if I stand on the lip of tub. Fear has me plastered against the wall though, not moving an inch in case she just _happens_ to climb on top of the tub and peer down. Jonah's not as scared as I am, though of course he wouldn't be—he's the good boy, he wouldn't get in trouble. He's against the wall like me, but sidling towards his Jeep. It feels like hours before the light finally flickers off and I noisily let out my breath. I still don't move until a few minutes pass. The blood in my head is pounding, my lungs tightening in protest. I'm lightheaded from not sucking in a full breath in what feels like a decade. I grip the chest handles tighter in my hand, the sweat makes them harder to hold, but I don't dare drop it.

When I sneak around the corner of the garage, Jonah's shoving the bag in the back of his Jeep. I slink over and maneuver the chest in the back seat—no easy task. I glance back at the little piece of ground that was lit up just a few minutes before.

"Sage!" Jonah whispers. I whip around. "Are you coming or what?" He's sitting in the driver's seat, his hand on the key in the ignition.

I look back at the dark ground beneath the bathroom window. _It's still dark_, my subconscious whispers in the back of my mind. "Yeah," I tell Jonah. I hop in, buckle up, and glance nervously around. Jonah cranking the engine will probably be the most nerve-wracking event in my life. He glances at me; I just make out the whites of his eyes. "Do it," I breathe, tensing.

Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage sometimes sends planes that circle around our house. Over the past seven years, multiple planes have flown so low that the entire house shakes and it sounds almost like a zipper ripping open, amplified about two million times.

Those planes have nothing on Jonah's little Jeep.

The engine roars to life and I swear the dang car is trying to rip itself in half.

My knees bounce uncontrollably as Jonah backs out of the driveway. When he shifts into Drive, I glance across him at the house that's just a mass of shadows in the moonlight. None of the lights flip on. Jonah creeps forward down the road.

"C'mon!" I whisper urgently, then realize there's no point in whispering anymore. Jonah flies down the road and hangs a right without even bothering to stop at the Stop sign. He zips down the second half of the dirt road, barely slowing when he pulls out onto the highway.

My heart is racing and I'm grinning like a fool. "You think she heard us?" I glance at Jonah.

He speeds up a little, then glances at me. "What the hell do you care?"

I let out a bubble of laughter and roll down the window, and it's cathartic.

"So you really want Perry to come with us?" Jonah asks.

"Yeah," I say without hesitation.

« « «

_ "Hey! So who has Mrs. Seals after lunch?" Alex called out._

_ "Who cares? I'm just glad we finally get to eat!" Tyler told him before he smashed a chicken leg into his obnoxiously oversized mouth._

_ "Yeah, for Biology? I do." I called back to Alex._

_ We were crammed onto one of the lunch tables the first day of sophomore year. We had first lunch—fortunately, and unfortunately. We got to eat first, but it was the most crowded of the three lunch periods. Everyone was yelling over each other to be heard and catch up with all their friends. I always found it pathetic how everyone said, 'Oh yeah, let's hang out this summer,' or, 'Text me sometime so we can go out,' before school let out for the summer, yet no one actually did it. Everyone got caught up in living their own life to bother with anybody else's. The only people who saw each other over the three-month break were the couples. And even they tended to all break up with each other before the first day of school rolled around._

_ "Alright!" Alex held out his knuckles so I could fist-bump him. "Wanna sit by me so I can copy off you?" he asked, chicken falling out of his mouth._

_Alex, being no different than all the other kids at this god-forsaken school, hadn't so much as said "hey" when I saw him in first period English, let alone in the past few months. He was already mooching off me—and we hadn't even been through a whole day of school yet. I felt like a martyr. I hated being the smart kid. Smart kids always have "friends" who just so happen to like "comparing" answers on every single worksheet and homework assignment._

_I weakly tapped my knuckles with his. "Yeah, sure," I muttered, but he was already laughing with Mason and Tyler over some stupid joke that I'm pretty sure was racist._

_I zoned out and picked at my chicken. Of my little group of "friends", I was the only one who wasn't in a sport or club. I had all the advanced classes while my good buddies were in the classes I could've passed, had I the IQ of a door-knob._

_I tuned back in when Tyler chucked a Ketchup packet at Alex, who ducked and slammed into my side. Alex cursed at him and threw a bread roll. Tyler dodged and let the roll sail past his head. I whipped my eyes up to watch it land two tables down, slide across the top and tumble off the opposite side. The table was empty, save for a girl with long, dark hair that shielded her face from view. She had a tray of food in front of her but she was chewing on her thumb instead, reading a book. I stared at her, waiting for her to say something for throwing food at her._

_She didn't move. After a while, I found myself _willing_ her to look at me, just so I could see her face._

_The rest of the table was eerily quiet. I glanced up and all the guys were staring at me. They were watching me watch her._

"_You know her?" Mason asked me._

"_That your girlfriend?" Alex barked out, spitting chicken all over the place._

"_He wishes!" Tyler blurted out and all three of them howled with laughter._

"_You're a douche, Tyler," I snarled._

_He laughed even harder. "Why? _Is_ she?"_

"_Yeah," I said as resolutely as I could._

_They all sobered up at that, even Chris, Sean, Jason, and Andrew, the juniors at the far end of the table._

"_How come we don't get to meet her?" Alex demanded._

_My face flushed. I hadn't actually thought they'd take me seriously, but they all had expectant looks on their faces. I didn't even know the girl. I was pretty sure she was one of the new sophomores that was fortunate enough to not have freshman year with these guys. I only said that because Tyler really was a douche, and I was embarrassed for being caught staring at her. "I-I'll go get her then," I mumbled, frantically wishing my face wasn't as red as it felt._

_I stood up in a not-so-graceful manner, almost knocking my milk over._

"_Aw, little Sagey's nervous!" Tyler mocked in a sing-song voice. I suddenly felt a wave of hatred crash over me. I hated Tyler for being a prick, I hated Alex for _acting_—however terribly—like a friend, I hated Mason for being nice enough to not say anything. At least the anger got rid of the tremors in my hands and legs. I walked somewhat steadily over to the table the girl was sitting at and went to sit on her right. I was close enough to feel her dark brown hair brush my forearm._

_She flicked her eyes up and glared at me. They were a shocking shade of crystal blue. They were serious, frighteningly so. Her chin came to a point, making her face a triangle. She had freckles across her nose, but not the kind that redheads have: they were a soft brown color, barely visible against the pallor of her face. Her lashes were dark, her eyebrows thick and more flat than arched. Her lips small and chapped, and she had a Marilyn Monroe mole just above them. She was pretty—intense, but pretty. I was paralyzed in an uncomfortable half-sitting, half-standing position. She ducked her head back to her book and I was able to sit down. I started talking with no preamble, hoping she didn't think I was insane._

"_Okay so those guys down at that table," I informed her, watching her read her book and hoping she was listening. "They think you're my girlfriend."_

"_You mean the idiots that threw the bread over here?" She asked, finally looking back at me. Her voice was a lot different than what I expected. It was high but quiet, laced with humor even though the rest of her face was somber. I had a feeling she was stuck-up. "Why do they think that?"_

_My ears felt hot. "Well, they're stupid and were messing around and then they threw the bread and it landed over here and I saw you by yourself and they caught me staring at you and I really don't like Tyler so I told him you were my girlfriend so that he'd fuck-off but then they all believed me and then they wanted to meet you, so here I am." I explained in one long breath._

_She was gazing at me, expressionless. She glanced back at the guys, then at me; I couldn't take my eyes off her. "So you want to use me so you don't look like a total loser in front of your friends?" She flipped her bangs out of her face. I got a whiff of her mouth-watering shampoo. It was a sweet combination of vanilla, gardenias, and something else I couldn't put my tongue on._

"_They're not my friends. And I'm not a loser," I said, hurt. "Stupid, maybe, but not a loser." I laughed._

_I saw her crack the smallest of smiles. "Okay," she said shyly._

_I let out a long breath and gave her my best crooked smile. "You'll come?"_

"_Yeah, 'cause I got Tyler in second hour and I haven't even talked to him but he already gets on my nerves," she said more bluntly, closing her book and moving to get up._

_I was a little hurt she wasn't just doing it to help me. Then I felt stupid for thinking that because I didn't even know her. Which reminded me…_

"_Oh, yeah! What's your name?" I asked, hoping I didn't say it loud enough for the guys to hear._

_She smiled at me. Her teeth were clean, unlike most people's who didn't bother with brushing. They weren't straight, far from it in fact. She'd never worn braces, but her smile lit up her whole face, and that's what made it nice. "Perry Jones."_

"_Unusual," I snickered a little meanly. "I'm Sage Parker," I said._

"_Unusual," she retorted, her face expressionless again. I smiled at her, stunned. She had a very no-nonsense attitude. _

_We stood up together; she was a bit shorter than me, the top of her head just reaching the tip of my nose. She stuck her hand out to me. I thought she wanted to shake hands, but that would've been dumb considering we were already "dating." I intertwined my fingers with hers and we walked over to Mason, Tyler, and Alex. They were dumbfounded. Admittedly, so was I._

"_I heard you guys wanted to meet me," Perry announced to the boys. She smirked back at me. "Apparently you guys've never talked to a girl before," she drawled in the sweetest voice I'd ever heard, even more so than Lorelai's when she begs Jonah to cook chocolate chip pancakes._

_Chris, Andrew, Jason, and Sean busted out laughing. I tried hard to keep a straight face. She was really starting to grow on me._

"_I'm Perry," she told them, flashing that perfect smile again._

"_Y'all are dating?" Alex asked stupidly._

"_Bullshit!" Tyler yelled._

_Perry laughed; it was the sweetest of tinkles, sort of like Christmas bells, sweet and demeaning. She slammed her book on the table and leaned in close to Tyler, our arms stretching apart but she didn't let go. She had her no nonsense face on again. She spoke softly. "Honey, my mama raised me not to lie. I may be surrounded by pricks, but I ain't about to _bullshit_ anybody, even if they _are_ dumber than a sack of rocks."_

_She picked up her book and pulled me with her to her table. Behind us, the boys broke into a fit of laughter. I imagined Tyler sitting there like the fool he is, red with embarrassment._

_I was baffled trying to come up with something to say to this beautiful, intense, _hilarious _girl. She sat down in front of her tray and cracked open her book like nothing had happened. I slid in next to her._

"_I…uh…er…" I laughed, exasperated._

_She peeked up at me through her dark lashes with dazzling blue eyes. "That was fun."_

» » »

"Sage, wake up, we're here." Jonah shakes me, trying to rouse me. I must've fallen asleep, but I don't believe I've fallen asleep for the three hours it took to drive to Seward. I flutter my eyes and try to look around. Everything is still dark.

"Whoa, how long was I asleep?" I groan. The adrenaline of leaving and not sleeping for almost 20 hours has made me crash.

"I don't know, like, three minutes. C'mon, we're at Perry's house," he whispers.

That wakes me up; I sit up and wince at the crick in my neck. We sit in front of a small, two-story house. The moon makes it look like it's glowing. Jonah has the headlights off, and he reaches to turn off the ignition as well, but I tell him not to.

"It'll make more noise if you shut it off and turn it back on," I say. The same with sneaking out of our house, we have to be quiet getting Perry out of hers. She has no idea we're leaving, especially not at two-thirty in the morning, but I have no doubt she'll be willing to come with us.

"I'm not sure if her dad's here. I'll be right back," I inform Jonah. I hop out the door but don't shut it. I make my way over to the huge tree that sits in the front yard and hangs over the roof right in front of her bedroom window. I jump up on the lowest branch and haul myself over so one leg is dangling on each side.

"Sage!" Jonah calls from the Jeep. I ignore him. He's never seen me do this, but I know what I'm doing.

I stand, climb up to the next branch, then ease along it till I'm sitting above her roof. I swing down so I'm hanging about a foot from the shingles. I let go. I make I dull thud and hope like crazy that her dad really isn't here, and that if he is, he didn't just hear me drop. I don't bother waiting to find out. I crawl to Perry's window and slide it up.

I almost trip and fall out the window because the curtains get in my way. My breathing is so loud that I can't hear if anyone in the house heard me and woke up. This time, I pause and listen. I don't hear anything suspicious so I creep over to her bed and flip on her lamp.

She's lying on her stomach, facing away from the light, hair splayed out around on the pillow that she's not even laying on. I know it's cliché to say that she looks peaceful when she sleeps, but she really does look serene. Her face is just as expressionless as when she's being sarcastic; there aren't any wrinkles in her forehead.

I shake her shoulders and she wakes up almost immediately. Jeeze, why couldn't Jonah have been this easy? She rolls over and blinks up at me. She sucks in a deep breath. "You need a haircut," she informs me.

I grin and run my fingers through my hair, analyzing it. It's a dark sepia color, wavy and unruly. I haven't really paid any attention to it lately so it hangs past my eyebrows.

"Well get up and I'll let you cut it later," I murmur.

"What're you doing here?"

I ignore her question and go to the door, listening intently. "Is your dad here?"

"You can't answer a question with a question." She sits up, watching me open her closet doors.

"I'm kidnapping you," I say, pulling a small rolling suitcase out of the corner of the closet. "Here, start packing. Is your dad here?" I ask again.

"No," she breathes. "Wait, where are we going?" She throws the blankets off her legs and gets up to take the shirts I pulled down out of my hands. "Lemme do this."

Her eyes are bright, even though she just woke up. Her dark hair gently twists over her shoulder blades, down to the middle of her back. Her bangs curl in all different directions around her face.

"Tell me where we're going."

"It's a surprise. You'll need clothes for at least a week." I flash my best grin. Perry grabs more clothes out the closet while I throw open the suitcase on her bed. I turn around to her dresser and open the top drawer. "Socks in the top drawer? I approve," I note, grabbing a few and throwing them in the suitcase. I open the next draw and try to keep a straight face. I pinch a bra strap with my thumb and forefinger and whip around, dangling it at arm's length like it's diseased. "Do you need one of these?" I laugh.

She snatches it and throws it in the suitcase. "Why don't you go in the bathroom and get my hairbrush or something," she says in her honey-sweet voice, dripping sarcasm.

"Sure thing," I say brightly, mirroring her tone. I try to twist the doorknob, but I have to unlock it first. I feel a pang of sympathy for Perry, knowing she has to live in this violent house. Most people keep their bedroom doors cracked when they sleep, with the hallway light on to scare away the monsters under the bed. Perry has to lock her door to keep the monster out.

I try to ignore the anger that washes over me and get her hairbrush in the bathroom. Her bathroom is small and it smells sweet and salty like caramel. I figure the one toothbrush I find in the cabinet is hers. I don't know if Perry and her dad share a bathroom, but even if they do, I imagine he probably just washes the morning breath out of his mouth with more alcohol. I grab the purple toothbrush, a stick of deodorant, and a pink hairbrush, then head back to her room.

"Hey, why is the back of this all scratched off?" I hold up the pink hairbrush as I walk in. When I look up, she's by her bed in a pair of jeans, slipping on a yellow T-shirt with "If at first you don't succeed, then you're not us" on the front—the academic honors shirt our school gave out last year (a real improvement from freshman year's shirts— a big arrow pointing up and "I'm NOT with stupid" underneath—how they even got that past the school board, I don't know). She yanks the shirt down, but not before I see the faded purple splotches running down her ribs to her waist.

She pulls her hair through the neck of her shirt and turns around to see what I'm talking about. "Oh, I used to love Hannah Montana," she says nonchalantly.

I smirk, but my chest feels hallow. "And now?" I ask playfully, but I can't get rid of the image of those bruises.

"Not so much," she remarks. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She's staring at me, a little V forming between her eyes. "Are you okay?" She doesn't like talking about her dad, but I can't help but ask. I run my fingers up and down my own ribs with a questioning look.

Perry glances at me through her long lashes. I can see the hurt buried so deep in her blue eyes; it's crippling to look at so I study the freckles on her cheekbones instead. "Please don't," she says.

"Can you get my shoes?" She points to a pair of Chucks by the closet. I set the shoes by her feet, the deodorant and brush on her bed, and hold out the toothbrush to her. She slips her shoes on, takes the toothbrush, and says, "Thanks" on her way out the door. The atmosphere has tensed around us.

Thankfully, Perry's managed to pack light. She's got a few outfits and an extra pair of shoes. I zip the suitcase and slide the toiletries in the front pocket. She comes back in the room a minute later, her hair tied in a ponytail, an oversized makeup bag in hand.

"Minty fresh?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Her lips twitch as she slides the toothbrush into the pocket with the other bathroom necessities. "Why don't you check?" She gives me a sidelong glance.

"Feisty, are we? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd actually want me to. Are you ready?" She nods before I steal a glance back at her window. She must've closed it when I was in the bathroom. I lift the suitcase off the bed. She straightens up her blankets and fluffs the pillows. "You won't be sleeping there for a while," I snort.

"Where are you taking me?" she whines.

"I can't tell you."

I yank the handle out the suitcase and take the makeup case; she grabs a book and flips off the lamp. We use the stairs instead of the tree since her dad's not home.

Outside, Jonah's waiting patiently in the Jeep, headlights still off, door still open. He beams at Perry as she climbs in the front seat with her book. I throw the bags in the back with the icebox and clamber in.

"Hey, beautiful. What's this?" Jonah asks, snatching the book from her. He chuckles. "_Fifty Shades_? Erotic romance?"

She purses her lips. "It's a _love_ story," she explains.

Jonah barks out a laugh. He flutters his eyes at Perry. "If you went out with _me_, doll, you wouldn't have to read about romance. You'd already have it."


	2. Shopping

**Chapter 2**

Shopping

YOU WOKE ME UP TO GO GROCERY SHOPPING?" PERRY DEMANDS. WE'RE parked outside a 24-grocer that's barely anything but a glorified gas station.

"Nope, it's just a stop," Jonah says as we hop out. We make our way to the automatic sliding doors. There's only a few other cars in the parking lot, mostly just cars that have FOR SALE signs in the windshields. We're parked under one of only two lamps. The whitish blue color only illuminates a small circle around the posts. The rest of the lot is dark except for the stars and moon, but even they don't provide much light here.

"This is kinda spooky," Perry remarks.

Jonah turns around to face her, holding out one of his arms. "I'll protect you," he says straight-faced.

I reach out and smack his hand away. "Stop flirting," I scold. We slip through the doors and are welcomed by a not-so-friendly woman. She glares at us as we walk in, adding to the spooky atmosphere. Her eyes are an odd shade of brown, more of a burnt orange color than anything; they trail over me, then land on Jonah. She eyes him with what looks like contempt. Her brows stay furrowed, eyes locked on Jonah, till Perry pipes up.

"What do we need here?" she wants to know.

"Well, for starters, I need a new toothbrush," Jonah declares. He grabs a hand basket and stalks off to the far end of the store.

"Okay," Perry mutters. "So, what else do we need?"

"Well, duh, Perry, what do you get when you go to a grocery store? Food."

She rolls her eyes as I grab a cart and stroll down one of the aisles. "Okay, what _kind_ of food?"

"We'll find out when we see it."

"Oh, helpful," she snorts.

I put my left foot on the bottom of the cart and push myself like it's a scooter. "We'll start here," I say. I stop to grab a bag of family size Lay's off the shelf and throw it in the basket. "What do you want?" I ask her.

She looks at the display of chips, then back at me. "I don't want you buying me stuff."

I laugh. "I'm not buying them. Jonah is. Now, c'mon just get a bag. Or three, or eight, just get some, or you're not eating the whole time we're gone."

"How long are we talking here?" she challenges.

"'Bout three months."

Her eyes grow so wide I have to stifle a chuckle. "Where are you _taking_ me?" she gripes.

"To a kingdom far, far away," Jonah snickers, coming from around the corner. His little hand basket is already filled with plastic-wrapped packages of chicken and ground meat. He empties his basket into the cart. "You're not going to tell her?" He looks pointedly at me. I shake my head and then he asks Perry, "Your parents really don't mind you being away for so long?"

Perry and I glance at each other. I see the flash of pain and shame in her eyes that always appears when we talk about her dad. "No," we say in unison.

Jonah eyes us for a second, but doesn't say anything, thankfully. He peers in the cart then raises an eyebrow. "This is all we're getting?" he asks, disapprovingly.

I look at Perry with a _See? I told you so _look that earns me a glower.

"When I come back, we better have some food," Jonah warns then stalks off again with his empty basket.

"You sure you don't want any food?" I tease.

She reluctantly turns back and grabs two bags of Doritos. "What else?"

"I dunno, what do you want?"

She smiles shyly. "Whatever you want, I guess."

"Well, c'mon," I say.

We walk casually up and down the aisles and develop a pattern: Perry throws a jar of peanut butter in the basket, I throw in a box of Bisquik; she throws in a few boxes Cherry Pop-Tarts, I throw in a few boxes of Hot Pockets. Mostly it's just junk food and candy, but after nearly fifteen minutes, the cart is almost filled to the top with everything from Cap'n'Crunch and yellow cake mix, to potatoes and bread.

We're walking around aimlessly for a few minutes before Jonah finally shows up out of nowhere. "Hey, there you are." He stands in front of the cart and picks up a tray of Mint Oreos. "Only one?" he asks.

"No, that one's just from our second go round. There's three more boxes from the first time we passed 'em," I inform him. "I think we're done though."

Jonah nods in approval. "Well we can go if you're done."

We amble to the front of the store to the cash registers. I'm starting to the feel the effects of not sleeping at all. The adrenaline is wearing off and my limbs are starting to feel heavy.

Apparently there's only one person working the graveyard shift here because the woman we saw on the way in is working the only available register. She stares at us yet again with her orange eyes when we start loading our haul on the conveyor. I try to keep my eyes down but they disobey, and every time they flick up at her, she's etching holes into the back of Jonah's head.

_What is her problem?_

Orange Eyes snaps her eyes down when Jonah turns around to swipe his Visa. A chill prickles my arms, but he seems oblivious to her. He goes through the motions of paying, taking the receipt, and loading the groceries in the basket without so much as even glancing at her. It's like he's giving her the cold shoulder.

"Have a nice night," Orange Eyes grumbles as we head out the door and suddenly my head is flaming hot. My cheeks flush and I feel my head slowly crack like it's about to explode under the pressure. We make it to the automatic doors when my head finally succumbs to the raging fire that sears down the middle of my skull. I cry out and slap my hands over my ears, trying to extinguish the fire.

"Sage?" Perry whimpers.

Before Jonah and Perry take a step in my direction the flame burns out. I'm winded and lightheaded by how quickly the fire dies. I crumple to the ground.

« « «

"_Sage, do the dishes," Nichole demanded. Her voice was cold and harsh. She hardly sounded like my mother—hadn't for the last week._

"_Not till you tell me where Dad went," I challenged. For the last six days, fourteen hours, and thirty-six minutes—I'd been counting since the day Nolan said, "I'll see you soon enough, bud," and closed the front door—she'd been walking around in a daze. She didn't look us in the eyes, she didn't seem to be looking _anywhere_ for that matter. Her voice had become so distant I thought the slightest sound might snap the feeble thread keeping her here on earth and she'd just float away like she didn't have a family or a house or a job that needed her._

"_I'm your mother, Sage. You do what I say," she said monotonously._

"_And _I _said I'm not doing anything until you tell me where my dad is!" I screamed at her. It felt so good to just finally let out all the pressure that'd been boiling just below the surface. I screamed it again, not caring what she was feeling. I _deserved _to know where my dad was—the man that paid for all my Halloween costumes, the man that gave me thirty dollars' worth of quarters every Christmas, the man that taught me to shift gears on a four-wheeler. I _deserved _to know where the man who named me Sage Ian Parker thirteen years ago disappeared to._

_Abruptly, she pushed back from the dining table and came to stand in front of me. She stuck her finger in my face and was so close I could smell the pizza sauce on her breath. For the seventh day in a row, she didn't bother buying food, so Jonah snuck a twenty from her purse and ordered a pizza for us. I was insulted that she thought she could have a slice, but Jonah convinced me not to say anything because it was, in fact, _her_ money._

"_You don't get to tell me what I can and cannot do, son," she hollered. I wasn't fazed at her yelling so loudly in my face. More than anything, I was surprised she even claimed me as her own child._

"_Whatever," I muttered and pushed away from her._

_I was suddenly struck by how much I felt like I was in a movie—angry kid yells at depressed mother and uses the "Whatever" line. For me though, it wasn't about just being a wannabe badass teen who does whatever he wants. It was liberating. I was finally confronting my mother, demanding her to pay attention to me._

_She grabbed the front of my shirt and shook me till I looked in her eyes. It was the first time I'd actually seen them in a while. All the light had gone out of them. They were just pools of emptiness, like little deflated brown balloons. "You don't get to talk to me like that!" she screamed at me._

_I refused to listen, I rejected her abuse. "Get your hands off me!" I shrieked. I wiggled and squirmed, but her grip only tightened. "Let go," I grunted, pushing her arms away. She finally let go, only to whip her hand across my cheek. I froze. I didn't move or breath or blink or feel. I just stood, not letting her get to me. Pain flamed along my cheek, but I didn't let myself feel hurt. I gazed at her just as emptily as she gazed at me._

"_You _will_ listen to me," she growled. "Do I make myself clear?"_

_The neurons in my brain weren't firing, I guess. Thoughts were running a mile a minute in my head, but I didn't have control over my muscles to make words or movements of any kind. I just stared._

"Do I make myself clear_?" she hissed more forcefully._

_I knew she was waiting for me to say "Yes ma'am" like a little robot, but I was in shock. I steeled myself up, barring any way for her to get to me. I refused to believe that I loved this woman. If I refused to have any emotional ties to her, then I would hurt less. So that's what I did: I made myself not hurt. All my thoughts veered to every time she made me cry, every time she made me mad, every time she spanked me, every time she promised to take me somewhere then said she was too busy to go._

_I could see the look in her eyes, the one that let me know she blamed me for things that were out of my control. She resented me. Then I resented myself too. I resented myself for being born to a woman who was biologically required to love me, but didn't._

_We stood there, glaring, for an eternity. An overwhelming wave of disgust washed over me and I suddenly felt sick looking at her, seeing all that contempt hidden behind her lashes. Without warning, her hand snatched my ear up and she twisted my head so far that I felt my neck pop four times. I didn't so much as cringe. I was numb._

"_Answer me, Sage," she spit. "Answer me."_

_It was like she was daring me, willing me to answer just so she could ridicule me. My motor function was still incapacitated because no matter how many biting remarks passed through my head, I stayed unmoving._

_Minutes—or maybe even hours or days, I don't know—passed before she finally just released me and walked away. I stared at the back of her head, wondering 'Who is that?' because it certainly wasn't anyone I knew. I didn't let myself cry, not even when I lay in bed for two hours. My chest felt raw and exposed, so much so that I was scared to fall asleep. Maybe I didn't deserve to fall asleep. Maybe I really was just a bratty kid. Maybe I didn't deserve to live._

» » »

I wake up and two pairs of curious blue eyes are staring at me. For a minute I think I'm seeing double, but then I notice one pair is framed with dark black lashes, the other with light brown. I squeeze my eyes shut and suck in a deep breath. I can't remember where I used to be, but now I'm lying on some kind of cloth and I'm slanted, my right side slightly higher than my left. When I open my eyes again, the dark-lashed eyes are gone and I'm staring at a straight-jawed, narrow-eyed blonde boy.

"How did you feel that?" Jonah asks suspiciously.

My brain seems to be clogged up, so I answer the question that I think he meant to ask. "I'm fine, I think," I sigh.

"No, _how _did you feel that?" Okay, so I _did_ hear him right.

"My head was on fire. What do you mean? Why? Did _you_ feel it?" I'm so lost I think I'm dreaming. Did his head catch on fire too? I don't remember seeing him fall like I did. The flames from before have faded away and now I just feel dizzy, though that's probably just from lack of sleep. I try sitting up and realize Jonah must've carried me because I'm sitting in the back seat of the Jeep. The dark lashes I saw before appear in the door behind the driver's seat.

Perry is calm, but she's got a fierce look of concentration etching wrinkles in her forehead. She climbs in next to me, kneeling close. She looks me over then eyes Jonah. "Should we go to the ER?"

"What? Why would we go to the ER?" I look at Jonah too.

Perry scoffs, exasperated. "Are you kidding? You just collapsed! You could've had an aneurism, or a heart attack, or a…something," she trails off.

Jonah smirks. "Yes, well, Dr. Jones, likely as that may be," he teases, "I think he'll be just fine."

Perry huffs. Jonah looks at me, but not with concern like Perry does. He keeps his eyes narrowed and lips pursed. His expression makes me think that he's waiting for something, like at any time I might collapse again. I don't think I will though. "It was just a really bad headache," I tell him. I can't tell if I'm trying to comfort him, or myself. "Maybe I'm just tired."

"Right," he mumbles unconvincingly. I get an uneasy feeling, staring him in the eyes. He's guarded and I start to wonder if he knows something. My mouth tries to form the words to ask him what he thinks, but he's already shut the door. A second later, he pops up in the driver's seat and he cranks the engine. He keeps a stern face as he pulls out of the light from the lamp and heads to the main road.

I want to announce that I'm fine again, but my lips form a question. "Did we get drinks?"

"Cooler," Jonah says tersely. He's distracted. I think he's mad at me, but then again, he could just be deep in thought. I decide to leave him alone, but when I turn to talk to Perry, all I see is her hind end waving around in the air.

I choke back a laugh. She's digging in the back of the Jeep. I hear the sound of plastic bags and ice swish around. I take the headrest off the seat and twist around like she is. The entire back is crowded with the groceries. Perry's digging through the icebox that is now magically filled with ice, drinks, and all the meat Jonah bought. "Hey when'd these get here?"

Perry giggles. "Earlier—when you were catching flies with your big ole mouth."

"Oh, is that what I was doing?" I scoff. "I do believe _you_ thought I was dying."

"Yeah, well you're fine now," she says like that explains everything. She pulls out a packet of juice. "Capri Sun, or…" She digs some more. I turn on the overhead light to help her see. "Pineapple?" she asks, holding out a can of Fanta.

"I'm not drinking soda this early," I tell her and grab the Capri Sun. She drops the soda and grabs a juice for herself. The Styrofoam lid makes a hallow thud and a screech when she puts it back in place. "I hate that sound."

We twist around in our seats to stick the straws in our juice. "Ditto," she says, ripping the plastic off the little yellow straw. I take a big sip, swallowing like my life depends on it. "We should put our seatbelts on." On cue, Jonah makes a left, and Perry falls backward. I tumble on top of her and the drink in my hand squirts all over her arm. He jaw drops.

With a determined look, she jabs the straw in her drink and squeezes hard. Strawberry-Kiwi juice blurs my vision. I sputter and wipe it off with my hand. "You don't fight fair," I accuse.

"You started it!" she squeals. I have every intention of acting mad at her, but watching her, I succumb to laughter instead. She's looking up at me with her big, bright blue eyes, wide as can be, white teeth glowing against soft pink lips. I pull back when she breaks into a fit of giggle. "Get off, you're killing my kidney!" she laughs.

We struggle to sit back up and she slides her seatbelt on. I throw both of our empty drinks on the floor. "You're no fun." I stick my tongue at her.

"Not when I'm sleepy," she mumbles. She twists and leans her body against the door, her legs stretched on the seat. She puts her feet in my lap and shuts her eyes. "So are you ever gonna tell me where you're taking me?" she asks quietly.

"Nope."

She keeps her eyes shut, but her lips twitch into a smile.

I lean down and grab a baggie of wipes from under the passenger seat and clean off the Capri Sun from my face. I reach over to wipe off Perry's arm; she doesn't move. She's already fast asleep.

I flip the overhead light off and lean back against the seat. I close my eyes and think I've fallen asleep when I hear Jonah's quiet voice.

"How come I don't get a drink?"

"Hmm," I moan.

I sense the air in the front seat shift. "Hey, if I have to stay awake, you do too."

I keep my eyes closed. "Well at least you got some sleep before," I mutter.

"And whose fault is that?" I know he's grinning. I'm glad he's come out of his little mood.

"Hmm," I grumble again.

We drive in silence for a while. I listen to Perry's slow breathing for a while before I realize I won't be able to sleep. I peek my eyes open and stare out the window. It's nearly four in the morning and the sun is starting to make an appearance. I make out the shapes of the mountains and trees on the horizon, the sky lightening with each mile we drive away from Wasilla. We're just driving out of Anchorage before he says something again.

"Sage?" Jonah's voice is soft. It's almost like it's someone else's voice how delicate it sounds. He's quiet, but we've been driving for almost forty-five minutes in silence that he startles me.

I suck in a deep breath and sit up straight, minding Perry's feet which are still in my lap. I make a gurgle noise in the back of my throat to answer him. He's contemplating something seriously because he's got that stern look back on his face.

"Why did you climb that tree at Perry's house?"

Okay, that's not what I was expecting. I don't know what he's getting at, so I give him a smart remark. "What does that have to do with the price of gas?" He ignores me and we drive in silence again. "I didn't know if her dad was home," I explain because his hushed attitude since the parking lot is really starting to worry me. I want to know what made him so quiet.

"But you came through the front door when you left." He's trying to unravel something but I don't know what he's getting at.

"He wasn't there," I tell him.

"But does he know she's with us?"

I finally hits me like a wrecking ball. Anger and grief swim through my veins and pictures of the purple spots on Perry's ribs cloud my vision. He wants to know her darkest secret. I only found out by accident, and I don't know if she'd want me talking to Jonah about her problems.

"He doesn't care," I finally say.

I scream at him in my mind to not ask any more questions. I trust Jonah, but it's not really my secret to tell. I close my eyes and wish he'd drop it, knowing I'd probably end up telling him if he inquired further. I lean my face against the cool of the window and listen to the tires against the pavement.

"Why?" Jonah asks like I knew he would.

I don't answer him immediately. I chew over responses in my mind. I know that if I really told him not to ask, he wouldn't press me, but I kind of don't want to tell him not to. I _want_ someone to know, someone to share the same burden I have. Perry can't change her situation, but maybe if other people know, _they_ can change it for her.

I get up slowly as to not wake Perry up and dig around again in the back. I pull a box of Donut Stix from a bag and then carefully climb over the console to sit in the front seat next to Jonah. His driving doesn't falter. I rip open a stick and hand it to him, then open one for myself.

I turn around and stare at Perry as I eat. The sun's really starting to change the sky now, turning it shades of pink and orange; a ray of light shines on the left half of her face. Her light brown freckles and black hair contrast her pale skin. Her lips are parted slightly and the only thing that moves is her shoulders. She's fragile and peaceful when she sleeps. Then I envision her skin bloom purple splotches and I have to twist forward so I don't see her broken and scarred.

"Her dad's a drunk," I whisper solemnly.

"_Oh_," Jonah breathes. He doesn't say anything else.

« « «

_"It's getting dark," I yelled. I chucked the basketball back at Alex and wiped the sweat off my brow. It wasn't really dark, but I could only handle Alex in short intervals. _

_I'd been hanging out with him more and more recently, not because I liked him (which I didn't), but because he was sort of the reason I met Perry. If he hadn't thrown a bread roll, and if Tyler hadn't ducked, would never have laid eyes on her. Well I probably would have, considering we had seventh hour together, but I wouldn't have talked to her. Not because I'm arrogant; she's just not someone I would've approached. Her intense looks were very intimidating._

_Alex walked back in his house without even saying bye. Now _he's _arrogant._

_It was late September and pretty chilly. It hadn't snowed yet so it was the perfect time to be outside. My lungs burned like acid every time I took a breath; I was panting hard from beating Alex at one-on-one. I loved it. I ambled down his driveway and walked down the road. He lived just up the road from me, a ten minute walk._

_I found myself thinking about Perry again as a worked on calming my breathing. I'd taken to sitting with her at lunch every day; Tyler, Mason, and Alex still thought we were dating. It probably didn't help that I milked it every time they asked how the "happy couple" was, but I found myself wishing that we actually were dating. I persuaded Mrs. Brown, our English teacher, to let me switch spots with Carrie Jenkins because I couldn't see the board from where she had me, sandwiched between Travis McGee and Reagan Spears. Really, it was so that I could sit next to Perry._

_We ended up getting along like orange on a convict. We laughed and joked and talked, but we were also just _together_. She was a pretty private person and didn't talk much about her past. At lunch most days, neither of us felt obligated to fill the silence. She became my best friend in school, and Alex became my best "friend" outside—only because I was secretly thanking him for making mine and Perry's lives collide._

_I was almost to the end of Alex's road when I saw her. She was sitting on a roof. "Perry?" I called._

_Her head snapped up. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. It was cold, so my nose was running too. "Oh, hey, Sage," she mumbled, he voice was garbled and raspy._

"_What are you doing?" I asked, perplexed. She'd never told me where she lived, but I figured the white, two-story house with the big tree in the yard was hers. I rubbed my nose for the umpteenth time, trying to keep it warm, then stuck my hands in my sweatpants pockets. Perry was sitting in only a T-shirt and jeans. "Are you alright?" I called._

_She nodded her head pathetically and tried to smile. It was an ugly, I'm-dying-on-the-inside smile. _

"_No you're not," I accused. I sized up the tree in front of the house and grabbed the lowest branch. I was still worn out from basketball, but I managed to haul myself up and climb on the next highest branch. I scooted out till I was sitting over her roof, then dropped down and landed next to her. She looked up at me with the saddest, puffiest, reddest eyes I'd ever seen. _

_Her arms were red from the cold, but in multiple spots, there were darker red spots outlined in white. My jaw and knees dropped in the same instant. "Perry…" I whispered. "Did someone—" I couldn't make any more words come out my mouth. I took a deep breath and tried again. "Did someone hit you?"_

_At my words, she sobbed and hung her head and buried her face in her knees. We weren't exactly close enough to hug yet, but I grabbed her and tucked her into my chest. She was freezing, but soon enough she melted against me and we sat there until she ran out of tears._

"_You can sleep at my house tonight," I offered._

» » »

I'm only half-conscious but I swim through the haze when the car slows and takes a calculated turn. My eyes snap open to take inventory. On the left is Jonah—obviously—and mountains. The peaks tower up into the sky, the sides house trillions of pine trees. It looks like a blanket when it's being shaken out: it's thrown up, then snapped tight, except it's frozen in the in-between state where the wrinkles roll across it like miniature cloth tsunamis. There's a chasm between the mountains and the road that I'm guessing holds water. On the right is a Texaco station surrounded by more wrinkles.

"Where are we?" I groan. We've been through this part of Alaska about as many times as there are trees on the mountains, yet I never know where we are.

"Girdwood, I think," Jonah answers. He pulls up to one of the gas pumps and slips out with his wallet.

I stretch and groan. I fleetingly remember Perry in the backseat and turn to check on her. She's slipped out of her belt and is curled up on the bench. I climb out of the Jeep and nearly fall to my knees, I'm so weak. I stretch, creaking and popping in the process. I sound old. I walk around for a minute. The sun has climbed higher in the sky and there's a cool breeze that makes my lungs feel refreshed. It smells like soil, water, and pine trees.

I open the door behind the passenger seat and Perry jerks awake. "Whoa, hey," I laugh.

"Where are we?" she parrots me.

"Girdwood, I think," I parrot Jonah. I take her hand to help her as she scoots out. "Wanna take a walk?"

She glances around when she steps out, speculating. "Here?" she asks, eyeing the Texaco.

"No, there," I laugh, pointing towards the chasm and blanket of mountains. I shut her door and pull her across the road. There's a guardrail that separates the road from the steep cliff face that drops into the green water below.

"Whoa, look how pretty," Perry breathes. She leans over the rail, thighs pressing into the metal. I smile, watching her peer into the water. "It's green!" she exclaims.

"You've never traveled through the mountains before?"

"No, this is so cool! So are we close to where you're taking me?" Her face lights up with a big, toothy grin.

"Actually, we still have a bit to go," I say. "But I'm excited that _you're _so excited. We're going somewhere a little better than this, though."

She pouts, her bottom lip jutting out the slightest bit. "How does it get better than this?" she asks, waving at the mountains and green river.

I grin slyly. "Oh, you'll see," I say offhandedly. I wave my hand nonchalantly and turn to walk back and find Jonah.

"Wait!" she calls, running to catch up with me. "Please tell me where we're going!" she whines. I ignore her.

Jonah's not at the car. We head in to the ramshackle building that claims the four gas pumps. It's barely more than a hut. Inside, a ridiculously old man sits behind the counter reading a Harry Potter book. Jonah's in the far corner (which is, like, ten feet away), taking a cream soda out of the refrigerator that covers the whole back wall. Two metal shelves divide the store into three aisles—though, technically they shouldn't even be allowed to have that title because they're only about two feet long. I tow Perry through the middle "aisle".

"Want something?" I ask. I let her go and sift through the packages of beef jerky. She doesn't move, so I look at her questioningly. "What?"

"We _have _snacks. In the car," she explains.

"Not this again," I mutter lightheartedly. "It's fine, Perry. That's for the house. Get something here," I command. It hits me too late what I've said.

She raises her eyebrows at me. "A house? We're going to someone's house?" she whispers excitedly. "Whose? Someone famous?"

I laugh. "Yeah, sure," I snort, cursing myself for giving that away.

"I thought you were just taking me camping."

"We can if you want," I offer. I grab two bags of jerky and peruse the other "aisles".

"No, no I wanna go to the house!"

"We will," I console. I toss the bags on the counter with Jonah's soda and Snickers.

Ridiculously Old Guy puts his book down and jabs buttons on the eighty-year-old register and asks, "Where you young'ns headed?" His voice sounds like paper ripping in half. _Jeeze, drink some water once in a while._

Perry looks expectantly at Jonah and me because, of course, she doesn't have a clue. "Just passing through," Jonah replies coolly. Perry's face falls; she deflates like a balloon so quickly, it's comical. I snigger and take the bag.

"Think I'd let you in that easy?" Jonah teases when we get outside.

Perry frowns and crosses her arms. "Woulda been nice," she grumbles. I laugh and scramble in the back seat with her when we reach the car. Jonah sits in the driver's seat. We all three leave our doors open, enjoying the fresh air that breezes through the interior.

"So can I at least known how much longer?" Perry asks between bites of jerky.

"Depends," Jonah answers.

"On what?" We ask in unison. This is news to me; I thought we were just planning to go straight to Seward.

Jonah doesn't look at us, but a sly smile creeps across his lips. "How fast I drive."


End file.
